I wander the third class deck, memorizing faces, memorizing characteristics, memorizing anything and everything.

Then I wander to the main deck. I find the man in charge of the waiters and he gets me a uniform to borrow.

It consist of a white button down, a velvet, red bow tie, and black dress pants.

I take the uniform and thank the man who is now my boss.

I have yet to learn his name.

He thinks I've trained as a waiter before.

I have not.

We're both mysterys to one another.

I close the door to the private bathroom, and lock it.

I shower, and then dry my hair. I brush my teeth, and wash my face with soap. I dress in nice clothing that fits perfectly.

I haven't done any of these things in so long, it's almost forign to me.

I leave the bathroom, and begin my first day as a waiter.

My first day of legitamit work.

My first day of my new life.

I'm no longer the criminal I once was.

I'm free.

~~~

It's four in the afternoon, and I sit on the main deck looking out into the water.

The ocean is endless it seems like.

Someone taps me on the shoulder.

"Did you hear me sir?" A man asks.

I spin around and a man stands there.

"Um...What?" I stutter.

"I have a piece of mail for you." His gloved hand hands me a dirty envelop. A seal on the front that could only be from one person...

I don't say thank-you, I don't even look at the man, I don't say sorry as I bump into higer class passengers.

I just run, and run.

I run to my room and I find it empty. Perfect.
I slam the door shut. Adrenaline running through me.

I tear open the nasty envelop, and pull out a letter.

I don't know if I should fear this letter, or to rejoice?

Then I stop moving.

I turn the envelop around and see the familiar handwriting.

Ezra Jacoba Asher
Rms Titanic
Third Class

But blood stains it, and dirt, even though, the seal is still there, the one we designed years ago as pre-teens.

It can't be... He's dead, he's in heaven, he's escaped the evils of the world...

I sit on my top buck, and gently open the letter.

It reads:

Dear Ezra,
I've... I'm alive. I want to tell you to forget about me, to let me slip out of your memory.
I wish I could be with you on the journey to America. I wish I could be on my way to freedom. I wish we could travel the unknown, and get a job, a real one not the waiter position we both got to pay off our tickets. I wish I could start over. But as you know, I don't, and won't, get that chance.
There are evil men out there. Evil things that are mostly demon than human. Well, I've crossed the paths of the most terrible of then all.
You thought I died, you thought I escaped the pain and suffering, you thought I was in a much better place. Oh innocent, lovely Ezra, I could only dream of being dead.
Forget me. Don't come for me. Live a wonderful life. Get married and have beautiful babies. Find God. And if, somewhere in there you do try to remember me, you do let the memories of us creep into your mind once again, I won't forgive you. Never.
Don't ever come back to Germany looking for me, you wouldn't recognize me anyways. I'm a moster now. I want, and need, to be dead to you.
Writing this is my good-bye. I know I'll regret sending you this letter, because now you'll want to find me. You'll feel guilty, you'll want revenge. I'll hate you forever and ever if you do any of those things.
I'll never get a chance to send you another letter. Only you and me know this one even exist.
Don't hate yourself for leaving me. Don't ever. One day we'll see each other again and you can tell me all the good, and wonderful things you did with your life.
So this is good-bye. This is the separation of brothers, the parting of rebels, the imprisonment of the partners in crime. This is, for you, new beginnings, starting over, a brand new life.
This is farewell my beloved friend.

Omar Uri Esaias

I don't move. I don't breath. I don't cry.

He's alieve, and I'm here, without him.

He's suffering, while I live on.

I die inside.

Right then three children run into the room, their mother running in right after them.

Tears run down my face now.

The mother scolds her children for running away from her.

My back is to them. They don't see my pain.

I climb down from my bunk, startiling her.

"Oh! I'm sorry Ezra, I didn't notice you were in here. Would you like us to leave?" The young mother questions me.

I turn toward her, still crying.

"No, I'm good."

Then I leave. She says something to me, but I don't hear. I don't hear anything.

Omar is alive but dead.

For weeks I thought he was dead. Ever since the shooting. Ever since we both decided to run away from home, and go to America.

Now I'm alieve but dead.

I wander the ship, tears running down my face.

The only friend, brother, person that ever loved me has asked me to forget him as he suffers.

Then I stop crying. I go to the bathroom, and change for work. I sit in there until my eyes aren't red anymore.

I leave the bathroom ready for my next shift. It's dinner time, and I'm sure everyone is hungry.

I leave the bathroom a different person.

It's still my first day of legitamit work.

My first whole day at my new life.

I'm still a changed person.

But I'm no longer free...